


Ashes Remain

by jell1n



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Incest, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, just be careful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 02:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4902544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jell1n/pseuds/jell1n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty sometimes wonders if he deserves all of this. Rick knows he deserves all this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes Remain

**Author's Note:**

> [reading music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5BasVtiAkc)

Morty remembers the day Rick came into his life. It was kind of strange—he’d heard mentions of Rick, briefly, in hushed tones behind closed doors. He has memory upon memory that didn’t make sense to him at the time but come together like a puzzle now. Beth would mention Rick, and Jerry would glare and let out a sharp ‘ _Beth_ …’ as a warning, and she’d roll her eyes but stop herself from talking. Moments like that stuck with Morty, and sometimes he’d find memories he never knew he remembered, foggy and faded with time. Colors are paled and faces aren’t clear, but he remembers sitting in the living room, his mom and dad in the kitchen, his eyes focused on dark stains in the carpet. They didn’t know he was there. 

“He’d never--… he’s a good person, Jerry. I want the kids to meet him. I… _I_ want to meet him… again.” Beth’s voice cracks. “I don’t even _know_ him… it’s been so long, I don’t even know who he is anymore…” Morty touches his shoelaces, trying to tie them but failing. He’s not sure now, but he thinks he must have been 6 or 7 years old. In the kitchen his dad is speaking quietly, trying to calm Beth down. Morty’s stomach twists with something, sort of like fear, but he doesn’t know why, and he’s too young to try to think about it. He wonders who they’re talking about. He stays in the living room until his mom and dad are done talking. This is the first time he remembers hearing about Rick.

One night, a bad night, one of the nights where he sees his mom drink glass after glass of wine at dinner, ignoring snide comments and flashing bitter looks towards his dad, sticks out to him. Morty shakes in his room. “You’re just gonna let him hurt you over and over again, aren’t you?!” Morty is surprised. Usually, his mom is the one raising her voice first, but Morty has a feeling there’s more to this story than too many glasses of wine at dinner.

“Beth, do you really want him to hurt the kids the way he hurt you?” Morty flinches at the sound of a smack, loud and sharp. “This isn’t about the _kids_ , Jerry! This is about me and my dad! This is about _me_!” Morty’s eyes burn. He’s been staring at his blank walls the whole time, and he thinks to himself that he needs to put posters up. 

There’s a faint knock on his door, and Morty opens it to a shaking Summer. “Hey,” she says, blankly, staring somewhere far away. They spend the night together in Morty’s room. He was 12.

A year after that, he finally sees Rick for the first time. Beth and Jerry sit Morty down in the middle of the couch, and they stand in front of him with strained smiles. “Morty..!” Beth says in a voice Morty knows isn’t real. “We have some… exciting news.” Her and Jerry exchange an uncomfortable glance, and Beth’s hands clasp together. “You’re going to meet your grandfather!” Morty’s legs swing back and forth. 

“U-um, okay,” Morty’s never been good at lying. “That’s cool. Uh, c-can I go now? I mean, is that all?” Jerry and Beth look at each other again. Beth’s faux excitement sinks, and Morty can see the fear in her eyes for just a second.

“Now, Morty…” Jerry starts. “This is gonna be a new start here for him! He’s been in… a bad place, these past few years, and he’s going to stay here with us for a while. Just to get back on his feet.” Beth has tears in her eyes, and Jerry wraps an arm around her shoulders. “You know, he’s really smart. Maybe he can help you with your homework every now and then, y’know, when your old man doesn’t have the time.” He chuckles. “A-and, who knows? Maybe you two will even become friends.” Jerry tries to act normal, but he’s stroking Beth’s back while she shakes into him and it’s uncomfortable for everyone in the room. Morty doesn’t want to, but he smiles up at his parents in spite of himself. Jerry smiles back, and Morty can’t help but think he looks tired.

His mom is sobbing now, and she decides to excuse herself from the room. Beth makes her way upstairs, and Jerry sits next to his son on the couch and puts his hand on Morty’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” The boy shrugs, looking at his feet. “I mean it, Morty. This is going to be hard for all of us, but your mother… she needs this. You’re a good kid.” Morty knows his dad isn’t smart, and Morty knows _he_ isn’t smart, either. But he knows his dad is kind, most of the time, and it shines through when it needs to. Morty looks at his hands, and hopes that kindness runs in the family. 

The next day, when Morty wakes up, he’s scared. He wonders who’s downstairs— he wonders _what’s_ downstairs. He sits in bed for a while, piecing memories together to form a picture of his grandfather. He’s dirty and unkempt, he imagines, from possible homelessness. He suspects this because of the way Beth has talked about him in the past; the buzzwords that came up when he overheard a conversation about him consisted of ‘missing’, ‘lost’,  ‘disappeared’. ‘Vanished’. Morty doesn’t know what else could have happened. His grandfather is gruff and selfish. Morty can’t help but be bitter towards him. He can’t help but imagine someone awful, awful, awful. Morty knows he’s supposed be nice, but it’s hard to imagine being able to face this man with any kind of respect, because every time he pictures him, he sees his mom, crying and scared. That look he saw yesterday, for just a second, of genuine fear. It’s all he can see, and it boils him up inside.

Morty stays in bed for a long time. He’s not sure when he first woke up, but by now it’s around 11 am. The door to Morty’s room opens, and the kid can barely make himself look up. It’s Jerry, and he has that smile on his face, and it makes Morty’s stomach churn. “Hey, kiddo. Uh, y-your grandpa’s here.” Morty forces himself to sit up, and Jerry lets out a nervous cough. “You should come down and meet him.” Jerry hangs awkwardly in the silence for a second, but quickly steps out of the doorframe and out of view, leaving the door cracked, giving Morty no time to ask to talk or to protest.

He dresses himself with no rush. Morty feels his hands shaking, but it’s a strange kind of anxiety that doesn’t feel real. He kind of expected to wake up today and feel entirely different, but he doesn’t, and he’s not sure why he felt that way in the first place. He’s ready to go downstairs too soon, he curses Summer in jealousy of her long morning routine that he wishes he had now, too.

Morty slowly steps down the stairs, cautiously and quietly, trying to catch a glimpse of his grandfather before properly meeting him. Beth, Jerry, and Summer are all sitting in the living room; Beth has tears streaming down her face, but this time she’s truly smiling and Morty decides he’s okay with that. She’s sitting on the couch, next to whom he has to assume is his grandfather. Morty thought it would be different. He steps down the stairs and into the living room, and Jerry grins. “Hey, buddy! C’mon over here, son.” 

Morty walks into the middle of the living room, in front of the couch, and still hasn’t looked his grandpa in the eye. “Morty, this is your grandpa, Rick..!” Morty’s surprised by how put together Jerry sounds, remembering all the times he’s sneered at the mere mention of his name. He’s doing it for Beth, he knows, but it’s still impressive. Morty’s head is dipped low, but he finally makes eye contact with his grandpa and waves.

“Heeeey, little man,” Rick slurs a bit, and aims a playful finger gun at Morty. “Nice to meet you.” Morty can’t help but cringe; the old man is obviously inebriated. Grandpa Rick is long limbed and thin, and his white, wild hair and the long lab coat make Morty feel like this is all an elaborate joke. He looks like a Halloween costume of a mad scientist! Morty smiles knowingly, and looks at his parents as if to be reassured that this just a prank, but he realizes they both appear to be completely genuine.

“N-nice to meet you, too. Uh, grandpa…?” Morty’s not sure if he should call him grandpa or Rick, so he ends it like a question as he goes to sit on the recliner, the couch full. Rick gives Morty a look, and he can’t help but stare at the man. He’s not even sure what to make of him, really, doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“So, uh, what-- what grade are you in?” Rick is obviously forcing a conversation, which Morty thinks is kind of nice of him in theory. “Y-you’re in, in, in middle school?” Morty frowns. 

“Um, _barely_ …” He doesn’t want to be treated like a baby, and admitting to being a middle schooler makes Morty feel like a kid again. He’s always been defensive about his age. “I-I’m an 8th grader. It’s my last year of middle school, I’ll be in highschool really soon, okay?” It came out a bit more bitter than he had meant it to, but at the same time, he doesn’t really like Rick all that much to begin with, so he doesn’t excuse himself.

“O-okay, hah! Sheesh, must’a--must’ve struck a, a real cord there, huh?” The old man smiles to himself, and Morty turns red. _He’s a total dick!_ Morty screams to himself. Beth smiles to her dad, and Morty tries to compose himself, for his mom’s sake. “I-I’m just kiddin’--just jokin’ around, Morty. No worries, I won’t treat you like a kid.” Morty isn’t sure if he feels better. Rick stands up suddenly, and with a burp announces he’s going to the kitchen to grab some food. Beth eagerly offers to go with him and fix him something, and Rick walks past Morty with his mom following behind like a dog. Morty is uncomfortable, and he smells the sharp sting of alcohol when the old man passes by. He looks at Jerry, desperate that this be some kind of joke. Jerry sighs a little, and Morty wonders if he’s even slept all night. He looks exhausted, like he can barely keep himself together. 

“Um, so, like…” Jerry and Morty jump in surprise. “What’s… Grandpa Rick’s deal?” They had both forgotten Summer was even there; she hadn’t spoken a word the whole time, lost in her phone. She still is, not bothering to look up at them. “Like, is he insane? Or on drugs, or something?” Morty bites his lip nervously. He didn’t want to ask, but it was on his mind, too. Rick seemed like he must have had a screw or two loose. He’s glad Summer said it instead of him, though.

Jerry shakes his head, his eyes shutting tight. “Summer, please just don’t say stuff like that in front of your mother. He’s… _probably_ … not on drugs.” Jerry sounds so defeated, after days of pretending to be cheery. His answer doesn’t assure Morty or Summer of anything.

Morty doesn’t hate him, he thinks. He’s not sure, really. He expected someone distant and cold, with a permanent black eye and thick hands that could wrap around your neck— and _have_ wrapped around necks. Morty had a deep fear that the man had been physically abusive, but now he doesn’t think so, and he’s confused and has a lot more questions than he has answers. His brain is still trying to force his previous misconceptions into the outline of Rick, and nothing will fit right – weird colors pouring out of a crude, shaky line in the vague shape of a man. The image is vivid in Morty’s mind. He settles on describing his feelings as “confused”, and leaves it at that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my friend kat on skype for helping me with this <3  
> i'm planning on there being a few chapters. this one is sort of fast paced and supposed to feel like fluid memories, the rest of the chapters will be a lot less quick and fast moving but i hope you still enjoy this beginning anyway.


End file.
